


trust me (I'll not dissapoint)

by ProudHaikyuuTrash



Series: SakuAtsu Week 2020 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Atsumu is a jerk as always, He just wants Kiyoomi to find someone, I was sleep deprived when I wrote this so idek, Kiyoomi is also a big asshole, Komori is just a tired best friend, M/M, National Youth Training Camp, SakuAtsu jerks learn to trust each other and fall in love, That's why they go so well together, and all setter's nightmare, that's the fic, they are in their first year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23594032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProudHaikyuuTrash/pseuds/ProudHaikyuuTrash
Summary: Written for SakuAtsu Day Five: Trust/MisunderstandingSakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu and the National Youth Training Camp.Or the fic where Kiyoomi is every setter's nightmare and Atsumu always loves a challenge.Atsumu speaks again, one brow arched, “I’m gonna make you hit my tosses without any analyzing, I’m gonna make you trust me.”
Relationships: Komori Motoya & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: SakuAtsu Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691599
Comments: 2
Kudos: 234
Collections: Haikyuu, SakuAtsu Week 2020





	trust me (I'll not dissapoint)

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was heavily inspired by @bratsamu 's thread about SakuAtsu in training camp so honestly the credit goes to her for this.

Kiyoomi meets Atsumu in the Spring Tournament of his second year of middle school but doesn’t truly interact with him until his first year of high school when he and Atsumu are invited to the All-Japan National Youth Training Camp.

Atsumu is proud, self-assured and always, _always,_ acts like he knows exactly what kind of each spiker might want even though he has never played them again. The worst part of it all? He has every reason to act like the fat jerk he is because, despite his shitty personality, he _does_ know what each spiker needs, sends solid, perfect tosses to them regardless of the receives. He held—holds—the title of Best Setter and every toss of his are evidence why.

Atsumu is flawless on the court and Sakusa, despite himself, finds it enthralling to watch the male. It’s the way he provokes his setters, the way he makes sure they _want_ to his tosses and then delivers the perfect most tosses and lets them feel like they have improved. Despite how proud Atsumu is, he never claims credit for any ball slamming on the elastic floors of the opposing court.

Kiyoomi is fussy—extremely so that setters in Itachiyama consider him their biggest nightmare. Kiyoomi doesn’t deny it but he stands his ground—Itachiyama’s setters are lacking. They play for the best school in the country and yet their tosses are only average—subpar. The only setter Kiyoomi somewhat trusts to send decent tosses is Iizuna senpai and even then, more often than not, Kiyoomi has to change his play and adapt to score his team a point.

Kiyoomi prides himself as an analytical player and so, almost always, he stops and analyses a toss before jumping. The setters hate him for it—say he doesn’t trust them. It’s true: he doesn’t trust the setters he’s played with. Their tosses are barely average and even though Kiyoomi says loud and clear what he prefers, he doesn’t get it and so he doesn’t trust the tosses that comes his way. Those imperfect tosses needs him to analyze their height, curve, speed, spin—he needs to analyze to adapt to the subpar tosses and analyze he does.

The setters hate him and he hates them back. They say he is impossible to please but they don’t even _try_ to please him. During practice more often than not he does something he can’t afford to in an official match—he cuts his approach short, sometimes, when he feels absolutely fed up, he doesn’t even approach.

Then he gets put in the same team as Atsumu and said blonde swivels up to him, fox-like grin on his face as he says, “Try to match my tosses Omi-kun, I have every high expectations from you.”

Kiyoomi knew Atsumu infuriated him for often than not but those words—the arrogance with which he says those words, the self-assurance—rubs every wrong nerve in Kiyoomi’s being and he sends him the worst glare he can manifest.

 _No,_ he wants to bite back, _you try match me._ After all, no matter how good the setter is, no one—absolutely _no one_ —has ever managed to give Kiyoomi a perfect toss. Atsumu smirks nonchalantly, eyes burning with a challenge he dares Kiyoomi to complete.

Atsumu speaks again, one brow arched, “I’m gonna make you hit my tosses without any analyzing, I’m gonna make you trust me.”

Komori sighs miserably, deep enough that it fulfills Kiyoomi’s quota too. He waves a pacifying hand and pulls Kiyoomi into position before any of the venomous words on the tip of his tongue leaves his mouth. Then he looks at Atsumu and sighs, “He’s heard that enough times for it to become part of one of his weird routines.”

That fox-like grin stays intact but Atsumu’s eyes sharpen, “Don’t worry ‘Toya-kun, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

The first toss Atsumu sends Kiyoomi’s way is a perfect rainbow and very high and close to the net. It fails to connect and Kiyoomi frowns, little budding hope getting trampled. _Even the best setter can’t match him._

But Atsumu just looks at him scrutinizing.

“What?” Kiyoomi grumbles.

“Yer holding back,” Atsumu frowns, expression the most serious Kiyoomi has seen on him, “Don’t you dare hold back. You could have hit that toss if you’d jumped higher.”

Before Kiyoomi can retort, Atsumu moves back into his position. Kiyoomi replays the toss, his jump, his swing and his eyes widen—Atsumu was right. Kiyoomi had held back on his jump to account for the speed at which the ball was falling.

He doesn’t know what to feel really—Atsumu had given him a toss he thought imperfect but Atsumu had faulted him, and it wasn’t just baseless accusation, Atsumu was correct.

Kiyoomi thinks that the next toss will go to someone else, but Atsumu proves him wrong by calling his name and sending an identical toss as the one before. This one, unfortunately, barely connects and Kiyoomi somewhat manages a feint.

He turns to glare at Atsumu but the setter is too busy being inside his head. Kiyoomi hears Atsumu mutter a small “got it” before he gets back into his position. Kiyoomi closes his eyes to replay the moment, thinks of his movement, his speed and the toss. This time, Kiyoomi concludes, it wasn’t his fault that the ball barely connected, and he almost feels smug before remembering Atsumu’s sharp eyes tracing every one of his movements.

The third toss, expectantly, comes his way and Kiyoomi, still not trusting anyone but his own judgement, analyzes the toss before runs, jumps and slams it on the opposing side. Atsumu is looking at him with curiosity in his eyes when he turns to the prying eyes.

“You prefer a high toss that allows you time to analyze.” He states and Kiyoomi nods. He frowns, “I told ya to trust me, Omi.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, stalks to his position and waits for the new rally to begin.

The fourth toss is as high as Kiyoomi prefers and when he jumps with his full strength—when Kiyoomi soars, the ball connects with his palm and goes oozing past the opposing blockers to slam on to the side with a resounding smack.

A feeling of euphoria takes over. His palm stings and his legs burn because of the sudden strain but it feels good. It feels amazing. He looks at Atsumu to gauge his reaction but the setter only smiles, satisfied, and gives him a thumbs up.

That toss—it was perfect. It had the perfect height, the perfect speed, the perfect arc—it was perfect full stop. Kiyoomi’s blood rushes to his ears as he replays the moment. He doesn’t remember the last time he had such a perfect hit, such satisfaction after a spike, wonders he even felt satisfied with his hits before.

Tosses come to him like he’s the only one on the court and after the fourth one—the first perfect one—each of them reach every one of Kiyoomi’s expectations. He doesn’t even realize it until Atsumu tosses to him when they are at match point and Kiyoomi runs up to slam it down. Only when he is replaying the moment as he always does, he realizes that this toss was faster and lower than the other ones. After that, epiphany crashes into him—he didn’t stop to analyze the toss. He can’t even recall when it was that he last stopped to read the toss before making a run for it.

He meets Komori’s eyes first, watches the surprise in his best friend’s eyes and confirms that yes, Atsumu had managed to keep the promise he had made at the start of the game. He looks at Atsumu, watches him talk to one of the coaches about something and wonders how it will be to hit one of his tosses in an actual game.

It’s wonderful really, Kiyoomi muses years down the line, how Atsumu managed to earn his trust within one game when some of his setters couldn’t even after years. He wonders how that trust extended off court and then he wonders just when is it that his heart trusted the male enough to open its iron confines and let him in.

Kiyoomi wonders how is it that he, someone who has a hard time putting his trust into anyone, trusted Atsumu enough to let him into his heart, into his life. He wonders, then he decides that since the moment Atsumu sent that fourth toss to him, his heart already chose him as its future owner and Kiyoomi couldn’t do anything but go with the flow.

After all, Atsumu did promise to earn Kiyoomi’s trust.


End file.
